A Cord of Three
by thedrowsypen
Summary: As the Civil War rages on, Lou finds herself in Richmond waiting for Kid, who has chosen to fight for the Confederacy. But Lou has never been one for waiting quietly, and her loyalty to Kid is tested by her own political convictions and those of the family she left behind in Rock Creek. And then, of course, there's Jimmy...
1. Chapter 1

A Cord of Three

Chapter 1

March 1862

Jimmy

The silence around the supper table was nothing new. Many meals had been shared in the vacuous quiet for quite some time now. Noah's death. The absence of Kid and Lou. Jesse's disappearance. Cody's now-often empty place.

It seemed that as the circle around the table grew smaller, each member who still claimed their place in that haphazard family drew more and more into themselves, keeping their eyes averted from those who knew the hurt they carried but were too broken to share. Maybe shutting out those who remained was the only way to survive. Or to grieve. Or to do whatever the hell it was that they were supposed to be doing.

Talking was too dangerous. Words uttered simply for the sake of conversation were so obviously forced that the inevitable awkwardness pressed more heavily than the silence. And, God forbid, if one dared speak about anything of consequence - anything that mattered - emotions could be stirred, feelings agitated, and the fragile thread that held each of them in the fraying bonds of their familial friendship might be severed forever.

At least that's how it appeared to Jimmy. The ever-increasing silence, he reasoned, was the vain attempt of those who were left to hold on to what they had become before this insidious war had swept its way across this vast country like a prairie fire.

He shifted uncomfortably and dragged his spoon across the bottom of his bowl, not daring to look up, despite the fact that he knew instinctively Teaspoon was eyeing him closely. He had only returned to Rock Creek that afternoon and Jimmy was certain the grizzled stationmaster, as well as the others, were curious why he had come back alone. Nobody had dared ask, though, and, for the time being, that was how he wanted it.

The truth was, he felt like a fool. How many times had he argued with Kid over Rosemary? How many times had he defended her? Fought for her? Even told himself he loved her? But he'd left her in Kansas with Celinda and Nathan. He'd grown tired of trying to convince himself of things.

"Jimmy?" It was Rachel who dared break the silence and the hesitance in her voice was not lost on him.

With an audible sigh, he lifted his deep brown eyes to her vivid blue ones.

"Yes, Rachel?" He tried his best to sound casual, but knew he failed considerably.

"I was wondering if you could help me with some chores after supper. If you aren't too tired," she added quickly. "Buck is going to mend the corral fence, and I was hoping you could help me haul some wood. The nights are still cool."

Jimmy noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She looked as tired as he felt. He nodded and pushed himself back from the long table, stretching his aching back.

He glanced at Teaspoon. "Do you need me in town tonight?"

Teaspoon shook his head. "No, son. Stay here and help Rachel. Then get a good night's sleep. I can spare you until tomorrow."

Jimmy shuffled to the door and picked up his hat. He turned to Rachel and gave a small smile. "No problem, Rachel. I just need some air. Be back in a few minutes."

With that, he stepped onto the bunkhouse porch and let the door swing shut behind him, leaving most of his stew untouched and any explanation the others might have been hoping for unsaid.

"Rachel?" Jimmy knocked softly on the front door and waited for the sound of the turning doorknob. It was almost immediate, as if Rachel had been standing directly on the other side of the door anticipating his arrival.

She smiled when she saw him and Jimmy was struck again by how beautiful the blond haired, blue eyed woman really was. Of course he had thought so from the first moment he had set eyes on her. All the boys had. But if Jimmy had learned anything about women, it was that quality of character only served to deepen one's beauty, while lack thereof rendered even the most physically attractive woman distasteful. In the time he had known her, Rachel had proven that her outward beauty was simply a reflection of the kindness within. His respect for her had grown, and though he didn't always know how to express his gratitude in words, he was thankful for the woman who was like a mother, sister, and friend all in one.

"Come in, Jimmy." She stepped aside and ushered him into the small room where he immediately noticed two cups and a steaming kettle sitting on the small table in the corner.

"Hang on, Rachel," he began, an unsettled feeling creeping over him immediately. "I thought you needed help splitting wood."

Rachel shut the front door with a bang of finality and laughed lightly. "I do. But first, I was hoping we could talk."

Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, but Rachel spoke quickly, her expression turning serious. "It's not about Rosemary."

Jimmy felt only a small sense of relief. He was wary of whatever conversation it was she was hoping to have with him, even if Rosemary wasn't the topic.

Rachel sat down in a chair and motioned for Jimmy to do the same. It didn't escape his notice that she chose the one nearest the door, and he walked reluctantly to the other, feeling the jaws of the obvious trap she had set closing in on him.

She poured a cup of steaming tea into the rose painted cup and set it in front of him. Then she did the same for herself and took a long sip, carefully avoiding his eyes. She placed the cup back on the table gently and ran a finger along the edge, tracing the lip in a long lingering movement. It was obvious to Jimmy she was trying to figure out exactly the words she wanted to say, and he was just annoyed enough at the turn of events that he wasn't going to throw her any kind of lifeline.

He sat silently and stoically. Waiting.

She finally raised her eyes to his, the signs of exhaustion he had noticed at dinner more pronounced, and cleared her throat.

"I got a letter from Lou today."

Jimmy didn't know what he had been expecting Rachel to say, but whatever it was, it wasn't that. And it was like a blow.

For nearly five months now, ever since Kid and Lou had left Rock Creek for Virginia, he had tried his damndest to avoid talking about either one of them. He knew the others received letters from them quite frequently, and initially they had tried to share whatever news those letters offered. But it had quickly become apparent that if there was one topic Jimmy was absolutely not going to discuss, it was Lou and Kid. The others had eventually stopped talking about them when he was around, and he couldn't recall the last time he had heard either of those names spoken out loud. Until now.

Without thinking, Jimmy put his hand inside his pocket and touched the worn edges of the note he kept there. That was it. The only piece of them - of _her - _he had left. But the others didn't know he carried that letter with him always. They only knew that where Kid and Lou were concerned, bringing them up was out of the question.

He was shocked that Rachel dared to tonight. He felt every muscle in his body tighten and a surge of anger course through him. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and gripped the edge of the table, willing himself to stay in control.

"Is that why you tricked me into coming here, Rachel?" he spat. "So, you could tell me something I have no interest in hearing?" He started to rise from his seat, but Rachel touched his hand gently.

"Please," she pleaded. Her tone was gentle but urgent at the same time. "I wouldn't have done it, but this letter was different. Lou asked that you read it."

Jimmy's eyes met Rachel's blue ones. "Why?"

Rachel sighed, apparently weighing her next words carefully."Because despite everything that has happened, Jimmy, she loves you."

Jimmy felt his anger dissipate in one fell swoop, only to be replaced with something far less comforting. Something he'd tried to deny. To run from. Forget. It had plagued him for months, made worse with each passing day. He thought that he could ignore it and eventually, it would give up and let him go. But shame was a cruel master. It tightened its noose relentlessly, choking out the reality of what had been good and beautiful and leaving only bitterness and hatred in its place.

He stared at the hand Rachel still held on top of his own, and, despite the storm of emotions raging within him, recognized the gesture for what it was: an offer of friendship and safety, a thread of hope that the healing of their fractured family was still within reach. She probably knew more than anyone what had happened between him and Lou. Hell, she probably understood it better than either of them. And she wasn't judging him.

Jimmy disentangled his hand from hers and reached for his cup of tea. He took a drink, needing a few seconds to collect his thoughts, to reign in his emotions. He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he offered, no anger in his voice now. "What has happened between us- to me, Kid, Lou, Jesse, all of us...I know you've lost something too."

He didn't miss the tears that filled her eyes before she stood up and turned her back to him. She stood still for a moment before slowly crossing the room to the stone fireplace that filled the opposite wall and picking up an envelope from the mantle. Returning to the table, she placed it beside his cup and patted his arm affectionately. "Thank you, Jimmy. I appreciate that."

Quietly, Rachel picked up some gloves on the other side of the table and made her way to the door. She turned the knob and was halfway outside when she looked over her shoulder at Jimmy, whose gaze had followed her as she made her exit. She was obviously attempting to give him some privacy when, and if, he actually opened the envelope before him.

"But Jimmy," she whispered, the tears that had filled her eyes threatening to spill over. "We've all lost things we can never get back. Don't let Lou be one of those."

The door closed behind her and she was gone, her words hanging in the air like a ghost, a ghost with whom Jimmy knew he couldn't fight. Enemies you could see were one thing; they could be dealt with quickly, easily, permanently. But truth - truth couldn't be silenced with a quick draw and ivory colt. It always seemed to come back for you, lurking in shadows and clinging to cobwebs of memories or regrets. Or, as was the case tonight, breathed into language by those who know you best.

Jimmy rubbed his temples hard. He hadn't really noticed the dull ache behind his eyes until now, but suspected it had been there most of the day. He took another sip of the tea Rachel had made, glanced around the empty room as if to make sure he was really alone, then reached out his arm to pick up the envelope. He held it delicately, loosely, careful to keep it at arm's length, as if gripping it firmly with both hands and holding it close would cause it to disappear. _Funny_, he mused. _That's what I thought about her._

The writing on the envelope matched that on the note in his pocket and he was surprised by the visceral reaction he had to seeing it again. It was like holding a piece of her and, despite his feelings of dread and downright terror at the words he might find enclosed, he realized that _not _knowing what she had apparently wanted him to, would be infinitely worse. He opened the envelope and slipped the letter out so he could read.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

April 1862

Leesburg, VA

Lou

"_Come on, Lou. We don't want to miss it!"_

_Kid squeezed her hand tighter and pulled her hurriedly through the tall grass that followed alongside the winding river. The light from the setting sun reflected playfully off his rumpled hair and he laughed from sheer amusement at her attempts to keep up. She had already tripped on the hem of the blue dress she wore several times. _

"_I'm coming, Kid," she laughed, trying to focus on the position of her feet in relation to the bottom of her skirt. "But we won't get there any faster if I end up falling on my face, you know."_

_Kid flashed a smile at her but didn't slow his pace. "I'm kind of surprised. Always figured you could outrun me."_

_She laughed again and tugged at the simple fabric with her free hand, willing it to stay as far off the ground as decently possible. "On a horse I could," she replied. "But not running over rocks and sticks wearing this thing."_

_She wasn't prepared for Kid's abrupt halt and crashed hard into his shoulder when he suddenly stopped running, nearly toppling over from the impact._

"_What in the world?," she exclaimed, reclaiming her hand from his and rubbing the spot on her cheek where they had collided. "That really hurt! Is there some…" She stopped mid- sentence when she caught sight of the look in his eyes._

_Kid was looking intently at the front of her dress, as if he had just noticed what she was wearing. And something in his expression betrayed his disapproval._

"_When did you put that on?" he asked in a tone of utter bewilderment._

_Lou was confused. "What are you talking about? When did I put what on?"_

"_This." He reached out and touched her sleeve. "It isn't appropriate, Lou."_

_Lou's eyes traveled to the place on her arm where Kid still had his hand and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She was covered from neck to toe. Why he hadn't noticed what she was wearing until she made a passing comment about it, and why he suddenly deemed inappropriate a dress that he had complimented several times before, was beyond her._

"_Kid," she began, the irritation evident in her voice, "I don't know why…"_

"_It just isn't the right color, Lou," he interrupted, as if it were obvious. "Everyone else will be in black."_

"_Black? What are you talking about? Where…" The words died on her lips as she suddenly noticed the silence that seemed to engulf them. She looked around anxiously. There was no longer any sound from the river. Only a deafening quiet. Where had it gone? She took note of Kid's sandy hair. The sunlight that had been bouncing off it only a moment before had become a darkening shadow that seemed to obscure her view of him. She glanced up. The golden hues of sunset had turned into a stormy twilight. _

_She shivered._

"_Kid, where are you taking me?" _

_But Kid was no longer looking at her. He wasn't even near her. She could just make out his shadow standing at the edge of a clearing, and she stumbled after him, more afraid of being left behind than going wherever it was he was taking her. _

_She caught up to where he stood and touched the back of his sleeve tentatively. Something was wrong. She had expected to feel the warmth of Kid's flesh beneath her fingertips but felt the loose folds of fabric only. The arm that should have been there was gone._

_She knew who it was before he whirled about and grabbed her with the only hand he had, but she was powerless to run. _

_Hopkins. _

_She tried to scream, but the sound caught in her throat and, noiselessly, he dragged her to the outskirts of a small town that seemed to appear as suddenly as he had. What had been a vast emptiness only a second earlier was now a bustling street with people shoving their way in an almost violent processional toward the center of town. Hopkins' steel grip on her arm only tightened as the bodies pressed closer, a crushing and pulsing mass that seemed more symbiotic than individual._

_There was something familiar about the town, but Lou couldn't remember the name of the place or when she had been there. Maybe she never really had. There were lanterns hung along the sides of buildings that only served to lengthen the shadows of the phantom-like crowd and the smell of something that turned her stomach, a chemical smell. It made her dizzy. She thought she might be sick._

_She wanted to yell for Kid, to cry out for him to come, but she knew he wouldn't. She was trapped in Hopkins' merciless hold and Kid was gone, lost somewhere on the other side of the crowd, held in the silence that had preceded his disappearance._

_The rhythmic movement of the crowd began to slow as they reached the destination they sought. Lou strained her neck above the surrounding bodies to see what it was that held their attention. In the center of town she saw a small wooden platform. It looked rough, like it had been erected hastily and used frequently. A set of stairs led from one of the side buildings to the top of the makeshift stage and two men huddled near the building's door, appearing from this distance to be stationed there as guards. _

_She could see that one of the men, the shorter one, held a rifle close to his body, twitching his fingers in a way that made Lou think he was eager to pull the trigger. She couldn't see his face, but something in his stance suggested he was young, not much older than her. The other man was taller, broad through the shoulders with a thick mustache that gave his face the appearance of a perpetual scowl. There was something in his features she recognized, but her eyes were drawn instead to the thing in his arms. Where she would have expected a gun or weapon of some sort, he appeared to carry a bundle of blankets. He cradled it delicately and she squinted to get a clearer picture. She didn't need to. The next second she saw a tiny fist emerge from the top of the blanket and heard the shrill cry of a newborn. He held a baby._

_Something in her wanted to snatch the child out of the man's arms, though he didn't appear to be intent on harming the little one. _

_She must have made a movement in the man's direction because she felt Hopkins' fingers tighten around her upper arm and for the first time he spoke._

"_Do you ever think you'll make something so beautiful?"_

_Lou's breath caught in her throat at the words he uttered. The very words she herself had once spoken sitting on a corral fence with Jimmy. Her eyes flew to Hopkins' face. His stare was cold, but penetrating, like he could see through her fear to the memories she had tried long ago to lock away. He seemed to know something about her._

_She bent her head quickly, unable to bear the vulnerability his gaze had elicited and noticed she no longer wore the same dress. The delicate blue had changed into a midnight black, and with sudden clarity she remembered where she was. But why would Hopkins be here? He hadn't been there that day. _

_She lifted her head slowly and turned to the man with the baby. It was him. _

_Elias Mills. _

_He was looking directly at her, his gaze as penetrating as Hopkins' had been, but without the cruelty. He would know this place too. It was here he had died._

_With one fluid motion she wrenched her arm free from Hopkins' grasp. He must have been done with her because he opened his fingers without resistance and made no move for her as she pushed her way through the throng to the place where Elias stood._

"_Do you remember me?" she asked when she had reached him, her voice heavy with an emotion she didn't quite understand._

_He turned at the sound of her voice and gave a smile of recognition. The creases around his eyes contracted when he did. _

"_Did you decide?" he asked simply._

_She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Decide what?"_

_He tone was kind, but his smile faded. "You had a choice to make." _

_She shook her head. "Nobody's ever given me a choice," she disagreed._

"_You have one now."_

_She opened her mouth to reply when the baby he still held in his arms let out another cry._

"_Who's baby is that?" she asked, forgetting for a moment what she had been about to say._

"_You can't hold her," he stated flatly._

"_Why not?"_

"_Because you'd kill her."_

_He said it matter-of-factly, with no hint of accusation in his tone, but the words cut her like a blade. She wanted to argue, to assure him she would be careful with the child, but the acrid taste of guilt was heavy on her tongue and no words could form around it. Besides, she knew that if anyone could see through the thin veneer of feigned innocence, it was Elias. _

_She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain attempt to hide, as well as gain some measure of composure, and waited for him to speak. But he was silent, watching her intently, as if they were actors in a play and the next line belonged to her. _

_She took her eyes off him and the squirming baby in his arms and glanced around at the crowd. They seemed to be growing in their excitement as they kept their ghostly faces toward the platform she had noticed earlier. Their voices had become softer but more urgent. The thing they were expecting was imminent. _

"_What are we waiting for?" she asked Elias, fixing her gaze in any direction but his._

"_The show."_

"_Show?"_

_Before Elias could reply, Lou saw a door open in one of the buildings that lay at the bottom of the steps. The scarlet light that shone from the doorway flickered manically, as if the room were on fire, but the man who emerged into the shadowy street seemed not to notice or care what was behind him. _

_He was not an overly large man, but something about his walk made Lou believe he was the kind of person who could fill a room simply by being present. He had a narrow face and dark eyes with a closely cropped reddish beard. He was dressed in all black with a small bowler perched atop his head. A long scar ran along his left cheek, from just under his piercing eye to the top of his jawbone. _

_He swaggered to the center of the street and the audience began to cheer loudly when they saw him._

_He raised his arms above his head and the crowd fell silent._

"_Dearly beloved," he bellowed. "We are gathered here this evening to witness that which is beautiful in its valor, glorious in its sacrifice, and sacred in its atonement. There are those in this life called to pay for the sins, the blood, of others. They are the ones who have bent their knees to the iron will of destiny, bowed their heads to the fate they must endure, and risen boldly to the foreordained conclusion of their lives. They do it not for themselves, but for those they hold most dear."_

_Lou looked around and tried to gauge the crowd's reaction to the man's words. She didn't comprehend exactly what he was promising they would witness, but a knot of foreboding had settled beneath her ribs. Something about him spoke of duplicity and destruction._

_The man, whose face had become half hidden in the shadowy fire that still raged in the door from which he had emerged, began to walk with purpose and determination toward the spot where Lou stood. She was both fascinated and repulsed. _

"_And who are those for whom they face the madman unarmed?" he asked the crowd. "Is it not the weak? The foolish? The cowardly? The Judas in their midst whose kiss is merely a betrayal of a loyalty that no longer exists?"_

_The man stopped directly in front of Lou and she could feel the eyes of everyone upon her, their collective gaze a cloak of guilt descending thickly over her shoulders. She instinctively reached out her hand for Elias, as if he could offer some sort of solace, but he was gone, and with him the baby whose identity she'd never learned. _

_The man reached for her wrist and pulled her easily into the center of the street. She didn't struggle but let him lead her wherever it was he intended she should go. He stopped when they were directly below the platform and she was surprised to see that a large object had appeared upon it. Somewhere deep inside she realized she'd been expecting gallows where a long rectangular black box now stood. _

_The man, whom Lou now recognized as being some sort of magician, turned her to face the crowd. She knew they were all looking directly at her, but their faces had become mere outlines framed in a sort of crimson obscurity. "And this, Ladies and Gentlemen," he continued, as he nudged her forward, "is your Judas."_

_Lou's heart beat wildly as the realization of what the man was saying began to take shape. He was calling her a traitor. But whose blood was on her hands? If she was the betrayer, who was the betrayed?_

_Suddenly the crowd erupted in another frenzy of applause. From the same building in which the magician had materialized, another figure took shape. _

_Jimmy._

_Lou felt the blood leave her face. How many times had she longed to see him? To make things right between them? She had often wondered what she would do if she ever faced him again. Now she knew. _

_Nothing._

_He looked the same as he had the last time she had seen him. Determined. Fearless. Uncompromising. _

_His brown eyes bore into hers as he edged closer and she could see something in them she hadn't noticed back in Rock Creek. It wasn't anger or bitterness, things she'd thought she'd find there._

_It was regret._

_He stopped within inches of her._

_She fumbled around in her mind for something to say, but she couldn't put into language what she was feeling. "I'm sorry" seemed laughable. _

_Slowly he began to remove the navy colts fastened at his waist. He tossed them carelessly toward the crowd, who seemed to be inching closer and closer to where they stood. The fervor of their yelling only seemed to be increasing and Lou feared that the sheer volume would drown out any words she might have attempted._

_It felt to Lou like she and Jimmy had been standing there, looking at one another for days, or weeks, maybe forever, but she knew it had really only been seconds. She could hear her ragged breaths and feel the trembling of her hands._

_It was Jimmy who finally spoke and, despite the noise around them, she still heard. _

"_It doesn't matter what others think," he whispered. "It matters what you think."_

_Her heart seemed to stop at his words. Once again she'd been confronted with an echo of something she herself had once spoken, these words on a night when Jimmy had battled his demons, and both of them, their desires. _

_It was what she needed to find her voice._

"_But it matters to me," she argued. "What you think matters."_

_Jimmy reached out and put his hand under her chin, lifting her eyes to his. She felt exposed._

"_You don't know?" he asked simply._

_She shook her head. "I don't know anything anymore," she answered weakly, painfully aware that she sounded defeated, hopeless._

_But he didn't reply. He drew back the hand that still held her in that tender, yet confrontational stare and backed away slowly, presenting himself to the magician as if in surrender._

"_Jimmy," she called to his retreating back. "What are you doing? What is happening?" She was too scared of what he was doing to feel any embarrassment over the panic she knew reverberated in her every word. She remembered the last time he had thrown down a gun. But this time she knew he concealed no other._

_He didn't answer her. He simply lowered his head before the magician. _

"_I'll volunteer," he said._

"_Jimmy, wha…" _

_The magician smiled and addressed the audience once more._

"_Ah-hah!" he howled. "We have a volunteer!"_

_The crowd roared and Jimmy started up the steps that led to the platform._

_The black box. _

_The disappearing act._

"_No!" she screamed, suddenly understanding. "Jimmy! Don't go in there!"_

_She was frantic now. She tried to run, to follow him up the steps and stop him, but the crowd had descended to the foot of the platform and she couldn't push her way through._

_She watched in horror as Jimmy gave her a small smile and stepped into the box._

"_Jimmy!" _

_The magician swung the door on the box shut. She heard a popping noise. The crowd finally fell silent as the magician opened the box once again._

_It was empty._

And Lou woke up.

She was covered in sweat, her heart pounding furiously. It was the same dream she'd been having for weeks.

How many times had she fallen asleep and immediately into the arms of Kid? He was always there, holding onto her, time,distance, and war no wall between them. For just a moment sleep was a respite, a place where memories offered solace and comfort.

But it never lasted. The light always disappeared, and with it, Kid. And then she was surrounded by the faces of those who haunted her. Different memories emerged, ones laced with guilt and overwhelming loss.

Lou swung her feet gingerly over the side of the too-big bed, careful to avoid the pain that still plagued her tired body, and reached for the blanket she had obviously discarded in the nightmare. Wrapping it tightly around herself, she tiptoed quietly to the door of the bedroom and down the narrow staircase, careful to avoid the steps whose moaning would betray her exit.

When she reached the front door of the tiny house she and Kid were renting, she twisted the knob gently and welcomed the cool Virginia air that bathed her face with something like relief.

She sat down on the top step of the old porch and tucked her feet under the warmth of the blanket. She tilted her head back and peered through the tops of the thick trees at the meager display of stars the obstructed view offered her. She wondered if she would ever get used to the smallness of the sky here. The trees in Virginia carried their own beauty, but they also served to hide the thousand stars she had been used to. She couldn't help but long for the openness of a western sky, where the blackness of night was merely a canvas for the light beyond. The stars back home were like hope in the darkness. Here, that hope was crowded out by the confines of her surroundings.

Hope.

She hadn't meant to let her mind go there, and she quickly wiped the tear away with the corner of the blanket she held around her like a shield.

She was done with crying.

She took a deep breath and glanced again at the sky, careful to avoid looking at the spot by the edge of the treeline where she had spent more hours giving in to her grief than she cared to admit.

She noticed her heart was once again beating its usual steady rhythm, as the immediate effects of her nightmare had subsided, but the emotions it had stirred seemed her constant companions. Every time she'd awoken from the nightmare the feelings of horror, sorrow, and shame had stormed in uninvited and settled into a more permanent home within.

Some things she thought she could grasp, but there was still so much in those dreams she didn't quite understand. Why Hopkins was there. And Elias. But of one thing she was certain. Both were tangled up in her memories of Jimmy.

Jimmy.

She rubbed her eyes vigorously, as if she could keep herself from seeing the image of him stepping into that hideous box, disappearing from her. _For _her. But isn't that what he had done? Offered himself to Hopkins in exchange for her life. He would have died for her that day and a hundred times besides. And she for him.

And what about the presence of Elias? Lou felt the warmth in her cheeks despite the coolness of the night air. That trip had never made sense to her. Not only the death of a man like Elias, but the heat of Jimmy's kiss followed by the coldness of his dismissal. It had left her confused, and in moments when she was honest with herself, hurt.

They had never spoken of that kiss again, but they'd moved on, regaining a friendship that was somehow cautious and unguarded at the same time.

But then the war came. And they had ended up on opposite sides, Jimmy because of his beliefs. She because of Kid's.

_Because of you_, she reasoned. _You betrayed everything he believed in and everything he believed you to be. _

She loved Kid more than life itself, but she'd underestimated the cost of her choice. Home. Family. Jimmy. Even her own felt as divided as this country. She wanted truth. She didn't know what it was. She wanted answers. She didn't know where to look. She longed for Kid. She ached for Jimmy. She mourned alone.

She pulled the blanket even tighter, as if keeping the chill at bay could also chase away the confusion that plagued her almost as much as the loss.

She was startled by the sound of the front door as the rusty hinges seemed to resist the movement as much as she did the company, but she turned slightly and forced a smile, understanding that Clarissa's appearance was born of compassion.

The light from the candle the woman held was sufficient enough that Lou could see the worry etched in the older woman's face.

"Miss Louise," she whispered. "You need to come inside and get some shouldn't be out here in this cold."

Lou made sure her bare feet were hidden beneath the folds of the blanket and shook her head slightly.

"I'm okay, Clarissa," she assured her. "I just needed some air."

Clarissa looked as though she wanted to push her point, but Lou guessed she had figured out quickly that arguing for something Lou was set against was a waste of both energy and time.

Clarissa sighed in resignation and stepped into the night, standing beside Lou and looking quietly at what little of the sky she could see, the candlelight giving her an almost ethereal glow.

She was a beautiful woman with soft ebony skin and delicate features that belied the strength beneath. Lou guessed she was probably close to fifty, but there was a youthfulness to her that made Lou feel as if she was a woman whose spirit was not easily broken.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Lou offered. "I just...I couldn't sleep."

Clarissa bent her head in Lou's direction. "Another nightmare?" she asked.

"The same one actually."

"Was it about…" Clarissa left the words unsaid, but Lou didn't miss the way her gaze shifted to the tree line.

"Partly," Lou admitted. "Not all of it."

Clarissa studied Lou. "Do you mind if I sit down, Miss Louise?"

"No," Lou lied. She admired Clarissa, believed her to be trustworthy, even to virtual strangers like herself, but opening up to others wasn't something that came easily to her.

Clarissa placed the candle on the bottom step and sat down beside Lou. She pulled her shawl closer and shivered.

"You know, my husband used to have nightmares something terrible. He'd toss and turn in the bed, calling out gibberish, and wake up in a terrible sweat."

Lou glanced at Clarissa, inviting her to continue.

"I asked him what they were about, but he wouldn't talk. Refused to tell me. They finally got so bad I told him if he didn't tell me what he was dreamin' about, I'd put a whole family of spiders in the bed." Clarissa laughed softly, "That fool was terrified of spiders."

Lou smiled. "Did he tell you?"

"No. Still wouldn't tell me."

"So, what did you do?"

"Hmmph," snorted Clarissa. "Exactly what I said I would. I waited till he went to sleep and put some spiders on his pillow. Big ones"

Lou looked at Clarissa in bewilderment. "You really did it?"

Clarissa nodded emphatically. "Yes Ma'am, I did. He woke up screaming so loud, near woke everybody up all the way to the big house," she chuckled. "But guess what? He never had another nightmare that wasn't about spiders."

Lou laughed softly. It felt foreign.

"Clarissa, you're not going to put spiders in my bed, are you?"

Clarissa grinned. "Not tonight, honey."

The two women sat in silence, the alien bells of laughter still ringing in Lou's ears, beckoning her to a place she used to know. A place she didn't think she'd ever see again. The days when laughter had come easily and often, never encumbered by a sorrow that far outweighed it, were a cruel memory, too bittersweet to bring any kind of joy in her present.

She heard the call of an owl and wondered what time it was. The night seemed to last forever.

"What happened to your husband?" She asked after several minutes, pushing aside her own misery and looking at Clarissa.

Clarissa carefully brushed a stray curl from her eyes. "Miss Elizabeth's parents sold him off to a distant relative," she answered, no hint of malice in her voice.

Lou looked at her wide-eyed, shock and horror undoubtedly evident on her face. She didn't think she'd ever grow accustomed to this way of life. She didn't think she wanted to.

"I heard a couple years later that he died. Drowned in a river while heading north."

Lou swallowed hard and stared furiously at the place where her blanket pooled like blood on the wooden porch. "I'm so sorry, Clarissa."

Clarissa patted her arm. "That was over thirty years ago now." She paused and looked directly into Lou's brown eyes. Something in her expression reminded Lou of Rachel.

"I know it's hard to see right now, but the pain will fade, honey, and one night you'll be surprised to look up and notice the stars again."

Lou shook her head and fought back the tears.

"I don't think so," she replied, when she'd finally gained enough control to speak. "Not here, anyway."

Jimmy's face flashed before her eyes. "And not back home either."

Clarissa clicked her tongue, as if Lou had confirmed something she'd known all along.

"Somebody back there broke your heart before you even got here, didn't they?"she asked sympathetically.

Lou dared not look at Clarissa. She feared the compassion she'd find there.

"That's what that letter was about you asked me to send?" she inquired.

Lou bit her lip and nodded, studying the way the folds of the blanket looked like armor. "I shouldn't have sent it. I think not getting an answer might break my heart all over again," she confessed, barely able to conceal the tremor in her voice.

Clarissa sighed. "Broken hearts can mend, Miss Louise."

Lou folded her arms inside the blanket and put her head between her knees.

"I used to think so," she choked. "I was wrong, Clarissa. I think some people do die from a broken heart."

Clarissa didn't respond. She sat beside Lou while the faint orange glow of sunrise crept stealthily through the treetops announcing the coming dawn. But Lou had folded herself inside the despair and didn't see the promise of morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

March 1862

Jimmy

_Rachel,_

_I have thought about what it would be like to write this letter to you so many times. I pictured you all gathered around the table in the bunkhouse or lounging on the porch, washed in the glow of a brilliant sunset, as you surprised Teaspoon and the boys with words that would bring smiles instead of tears, joy instead of sorrow, life instead of death. _

_I imagined that I would somehow be able to feel the warmth that radiated from you all, way out here, leaving me full, not empty. I don't know why, but I thought the news I would share would somehow heal us, mend everything that has been broken, remind us that new beginnings are possible._

_This isn't that letter. I write this to you sitting alone at the edge of the woods that border our house where just days ago I buried my daughter. She was born too early and wasn't strong enough to survive._

_The doctor said there was nothing I could have done, that it wasn't my fault. You and I both know he is wrong. If I hadn't kept it from Kid when I found out in Rock Creek that I was expecting, and come all the way here, she may have had a chance. It's my fault, Rachel, and I think the guilt weighs as heavy on me as the loss. _

_I don't know how to tell Kid. I've tried to write him the same letter I send to you now, but each attempt has proven fruitless. He was going to try to get leave when it was time, to be with me when she arrived. How do I tell him that he missed her? That her life was only a breath, a passing breeze that stole my heart and left only despair in its place? How do I tell him that it was a girl like he had predicted? That I had her with me for five days before death snatched her from my arms? How do I describe to him how beautiful she was, that this little creature who was no bigger than the hands with which I held her, could grant me a joy that far eclipsed any pain? How do I tell him that the only hope of life in this war-torn land lies buried beneath the very soil for which he fights? _

_I can't. _

_And, so, in what I fear is my own selfishness, I lay this burden at your feet, hoping that in disclosing this secret, I can glean some measure of comfort from someone who understands the loss of which I speak and who extends the hand of forgiveness to someone who cannot forgive herself. I don't expect to find within me the person I was before this, but maybe your solidarity can make the bearing of it a little easier._

_I need you to tell me that I'll survive this, that one day the midnight will give way to another sunrise. I need you to tell me that I won't always hate myself, that the weight of shame I carry won't destroy me. I need you to know all that I've done and to love me anyway._

_I have nobody to hold my hand through this. Elizabeth sent Clarissa to stay with me until I can physically regain my strength, but it is not her company I crave; nor is it the physical scars that pain me. I appreciate the offer of friendship I have unexpectedly found in this place, but I need something nobody here can give. I need all of you, the only family I've ever really known, to walk with me through this valley of death, even though the miles that separate us seem relentlessly vicious in their distance. I need your unhindered empathy, Rachel. I need Buck's quiet sensitivity, Cody's contagious humor, and Teaspoon's paternal wisdom. _

_And I need that for which I dare not hope: Jimmy's forgiveness._

_As if I haven't asked too much of you already, I am going to presume upon your compassion for one more request. Can you give him this letter? I never told you before we left, but you weren't the only one who knew about the baby. Because I had yet to share the news with Kid, I felt it wrong that others should know, but Jimmy inadvertently discovered my secret days before we departed._

_It was the last time I saw him. The last time he spoke to me. In all these months I've had not one letter, one word from him._

_I know I betrayed him, that following Kid to Virginia in support of a cause he finds reprehensible has removed any affection he may have had for me. I understand that he harbors no lingering respect for me, that the girl he thought he knew turned out to be a fraud. _

_There was a time when he believed the only disguise I wore was that of a boy. But more recently, when the war that divided this country ripped our family in half, he realized that my real masquerade was bravery. I argued with him before I left, claiming loyalty over cowardice, demanding that he listen. I thought I was right. It turns out he was._

_He understood what I had tried for years to deny. He never knew about Wicks, but he still saw the truth. Pretending to be a boy, riding for the Express - those weren't decisions I made because I was bold. I made them because I was afraid. And everything after that, every choice I've made, every step I've taken, has been motivated by fear. I was afraid that if I didn't follow Kid to Virginia he would see it as a betrayal. I was afraid to tell him about the baby because, had the news kept him from fighting for something in which he so strongly believed, I feared he would blame me, or worse, regret the fact that he had made me his wife. _

_And Jimmy saw through it all. He knew me for a coward._

_But maybe in Jimmy's knowing who I really am, I at least have the freedom to emerge as one with nothing left to hide. And, so, I plead again, Rachel, that if you see him, and if he'll take it, you give him this letter (I realize I don't even know if he is still in Rock Creek; perhaps he has gone to fight for a cause he deems worthy of arms with a woman deserving of his trust). _

_For some reason which I cannot fully comprehend, I need him to know that the baby he warned me not to carry into a war-ravaged land is dead. I need him to know that he was right. _

_I need him to know that I am sorry. I am sorry for everything that has happened between us. I am sorry for every spiteful word I hurled at him. I am sorry that I didn't listen. I am sorry that I betrayed him. I am sorry that I turned out to be everything he despises. _

_I don't know if healing is possible, if love remains on the other side of war, or life on a distant shore from death, but for whatever it is worth, I still believe him to be good. Please tell him that there is a girl on the other side of the lines we have drawn who, broken as she is, loves him wholly._

_Give Teaspoon and the boys a hug for me. I miss you all._

_Yours affectionately, _

_Lou_

Jimmy gaped open-mouthed at the thin piece of paper he held with trembling hands. His flesh had been shredded by the cold metal of a bullet several times before. That pain was nothing compared to the slow and methodical shattering he experienced as his mind began to make sense of the words that had bled from Lou's heart onto the page. It was as if each line brought with it a sharp and penetrating puncture to the armor he had worked so hard to craft over the course of the last few months. _The last few years, _he admitted truthfully.

He pushed himself back from the table and stood on shaky knees in the silent room. A thousand thoughts were coiling around his ribcage like a snake closing in on its prey, and though he instinctively knew each one would eventually have to be either systematically confronted or denied, at the moment there was one thought that seemed to shout above the clamoring voices of the rest: _Lou's baby was dead._

He paced unsteadily around the small room, still clutching the letter, willing his mind's eye to block out a vision of Lou alone, kneeling on the blood-soaked earth of a battered land, placing her lifeless daughter in the company of countless others who'd been victims of Virginia's pride, its _cause_. He'd never set eyes on the place, but something in him hated it. _How do you like your home now, Kid? _he thought bitterly. _Is it still worth fighting for? Or is the price of your child still not high enough to change your mind?_

Kid.

Jimmy's eyes scanned the letter hastily. At some point Lou must have told Kid about the baby. Or maybe he'd figured it out on his own. He would have been a fool not to. Even Jimmy, as angry as he'd been that day, had noticed a radiance in her that could only be explained by something as sacred as the promise of new life.

A promise unfulfilled. And not just for Lou. Jimmy recognized, despite his fury, that Kid had lost something too.

Only Kid didn't know it. Jimmy massaged his temples. Once again he felt like an intruder, possessing knowledge of something he had no right to. Why did it seem as if he and Lou were inextricably and forever tied to one another, sharing moments, experiences, and memories that blurred boundaries he wasn't sure should be crossed? She hadn't intended for him to learn about the child she carried, and he'd wished a thousand times since that he'd never known.

But he suspected that the path to the strange intimacy they shared had been forged long before either of them was even aware of what was happening.

Honestly, he wasn't sure _she'd_ ever been aware. Kid had always been there and whatever questions or feelings had arisen where Jimmy was concerned were quickly settled in the safe embrace that only Kid could offer.

And Jimmy had made sure of it.

He'd been so careful. Deliberate. Doing everything in his power to steer her toward the right choice. Hell, he was the one who gave her away when she married Kid.

_Walking her down an aisle and giving her away are not the same thing. _

The thought had come without warning and he swallowed hard, attempting to bury it quickly, like the bile that had risen unexpectedly in his throat. He knew all too well the dangers of allowing ideas the space and time to take root. Let them blossom and before long you'd find yourself blinded, unable to see the light of reality beyond the shadow of what you wanted.

He took a deep breath and glanced out the window where his uneasy pacing had unconsciously led him. He could see Rachel lifting the ax and bringing it down swiftly on the chopping block. Her movements were steady, sure, and for a second, he envied her. It seemed so long since he'd been sure of anything, since the world in which he lived or the people whom he loved had been constant, fixed, safe.

He looked at the pile of wood at Rachel's feet and thought of another place and time, one that felt a million miles away and a thousand lifetimes gone, when he'd stood in a similar position, holding an axe high above his head, brandishing it like a weapon against the vision of a girl whose face he could no longer recall.

_You chopped yourself enough wood to last all winter._

She'd come out of nowhere, sensitive to the emotions that had been stirring within him. But it was still too early in their friendship to know he should have been guarded.

_Is there something you wanted to talk about, Lou?_

_I thought maybe you did. Sometimes it helps to talk._

He hadn't wanted to talk, but she'd pushed it. Not because she needed anything, but because he did.

And she'd seen it.

She always saw it.

Jimmy rubbed his eyes wearily and placed his head against the solid glass of the window. It seemed the only real thing in the room.

He remembered another night, could still smell the embers of a burning campfire that had offered no warmth against the fear he'd battled.

But she had.

_It doesn't matter what others think. It matters what you think._

He could still see her face in the low light of that dying fire, could taste the surge of hope he'd felt as he searched her eyes and thought he caught a glimpse of that for which he longed. He'd forgotten to be careful.

_I think you're a much better man than you give yourself credit for._

She'd spoken it with the unpretentious honesty he'd come to expect from her, and it had been too much. It was the only time since he'd sensed the shift in their relationship that he'd faltered.

Jimmy shoved himself away from the window where he leaned and broke off the memory the same way he'd halted the startling truth that had confronted him only seconds before. He was too familiar with the consequences of dwelling on certain memories.

He noticed he still clung to Lou's letter and wondered if Rachel expected him to leave it. After all, it bore her name. He glanced at the envelope he'd discarded on the table, decided he didn't care if it was his to take or not, and thrust the letter in his pocket, walking resolutely towards the door and out into the open air where he could breathe.

He reached the place where Rachel continued splitting wood in a few quick strides and put his hand on her shoulder.

"I've got it, Rachel," he offered huskily, alarmed and irritated at the emotion he heard in his voice.

She jumped slightly at his touch, but gave him a grateful smile. He didn't miss the question in her eyes as she handed him the handle of the axe, and he knew she was wondering if he'd read the letter.

He looked down and placed a thick piece of wood firmly in front of him, fixing his gaze steadily on the lines and contours of the severed tree limb.

"She's wrong, you know," he whispered softly, not yet trusting his voice to cover what he still hoped to hide. "She's wrong about everything."

Rachel removed the gloves she wore and wiped her hands briskly on her skirt, backing up as she did. Jimmy noticed that she was giving him more space than he needed to complete the task at hand.

"I know," she sighed, "but grief wrapped up in guilt is a powerful enemy of truth."

He felt, rather than saw, the weight of Rachel's gaze on him and guessed that she meant the words as much about him as Lou. He chose to ignore the implication.

"She has nothing to feel guilty about."

"I'm not sure you do either."

Jimmy shook his head, but didn't respond. He knew any argument he offered to the contrary would be futile, and he didn't have the energy or inclination to disclose details that would prove his case.

Rachel sighed and began to make her way back to the house. She was halfway there when Jimmy recalled something else in Lou's letter.

"Rachel," he called suddenly at her retreating back. "Who's Wicks?"

Rachel turned to him once again and held his stare across the distance, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Why don't you ask Lou?"

Jimmy clenched his jaw, not surprised by her response, but frustrated nonetheless.

"Figured you'd say that," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

If she heard him, she didn't let on, but closed the distance from where she stood to the porch, leaving him alone for the second time that night.

Jimmy waited until he heard the click of the door, then gripped the handle of the axe firmly in his hands. He swung the steel blade in an arc above his head and brought it down firmly upon the piece of wood before him. He watched with satisfaction as the timber split cleanly down the middle, bending without resistance to his will.

He bent to pick up another piece. Then another. And another. He repeated the fluid movement over and over, bringing about the desired result each time the metal edge hit its target. He disregarded the blisters that were already forming on his fingers and lost himself in the exhilarating fact that, for just a moment, the thing he held in his calloused hands did exactly what is was supposed to.

_Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the kind reviews! I have never written anything like this in my life, and I am finding the experience to be exhilarating and terrifying at the same time! Your encouragement helps to spur me on. I am working as fast as I can, but I confess that the desire to write far exceeds the time allotted for it. I also want to say quickly that Jimmy's expressed hatred of Virginia does not reflect my opinion in the slightest. I grew up right outside of Richmond and love the state dearly!_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

October 1861

Lou

"Rider coming!"

Lou squinted in the late afternoon sun and could just make out a shadowy figure emerging some distance in a cloud of dust. Even with the glare of light in her eyes and the swirling dirt that surrounded the approaching rider, she was able to distinguish Katy's particular gait and the form of the rider who sat on her back. She would know him anywhere.

She glanced down at her grime-covered trousers, knowing instinctively that her face was undoubtedly masked in the same amount of filth and sweat. It was an unusually warm day, and the physical labor she'd done since morning, coupled with the overwhelming exhaustion she felt, had certainly done nothing good for her appearance. Somebody had told her once that a woman should take great care to look as beautiful as she was able when her husband returned home, especially if his absence had been a long one. Lou sighed. She didn't think she had taken that particular piece of advice once in the months since she'd married Kid.

She may not have been riding for the Express since her marriage, but she hadn't stopped working. Teaspoon had, in fact, convinced Russell, Majors and Waddell to let him hire another part-time cook, since Rachel's time was divided between the station and the schoolhouse. Lou's name was once again added to the payroll, but after her first few attempts at meal preparation, everyone agreed to once again keep her secret: her job title may have been "cook," but her actual duties included anything that kept her out of the kitchen. And nearly every one of those jobs confined her to a perpetual state of filth. Not that it bothered her much. In fact, she thrived on it, but she wondered sometimes if Kid wanted her to look a little more like a lady and less like an Express rider.

Lou put down the rake she had been holding and self-consciously brushed away the hair that had come loose from its braid and clung to the sweat on her cheeks. She proceeded to rub her hands vigorously on her legs in a vain attempt to remove some of the grime from her fingers. Cody, who had been helping her clean out the corral, noticed her movements and laughed suddenly.

"You know," he said with amusement, a trace of the carefree boy she remembered visible in his crooked smile, "you would have done better to wipe off your hands _before _touching your face. You just added a fresh layer of dirt on top of all the others."

"Really?" she questioned anxiously, turning to face him squarely so he could further assess the damage she had done. "How bad is it?"

Cody cocked his head to one side and studied her intently for a moment. "Well," he began thoughtfully, "let's just say Kid might not be able to find you if you stand too close to Katy. You both have the same coloring."

Lou laughed. "I thought you were of the opinion that Kid preferred her to me anyway. Maybe this will put me on equal footing."

Cody shook his head in mock seriousness. "It's doubtful, Lou. I mean, he's tasted your cooking. Katy would never subject him to that."

Lou smiled and swatted his arm playfully, then turned to see if Kid was near enough so she could distinguish his features. She had been anxious for him all day and was eager for a glimpse of his piercing eyes and ready grin.

"You know, Cody," she began lightly, not taking her eyes off Kid's approaching form. "I'd probably be offended if it wasn't true. But, really, you should thank me. I was just trying to cure you of...what is it Teaspoon called them? Your swinish habits."

Cody laughed again. "It worked," he said, his voice lighter than she'd heard it in weeks. "That pie you made me has pretty much curbed any desire for food ever again."

Lou raised her chin. "Well, honestly, if they want us to get it right, they should make salt and sugar look at least slightly different."

"Well, they certainly taste different," Cody chuckled as he put his arm affectionately around Lou's shoulders, pulling her close and fixing his gaze to the place where hers was glued. She was slightly startled at the gesture, but leaned in to the friendly embrace nonetheless. She had noticed a change in Cody since Noah's death and sensed that not only was he coming to terms with the depth of his feelings for the people he called family, but also the very real possibility that the war which had already cost so much, was not yet finished wreaking its havoc. The threat of separation was palpable, and Lou knew that the desire to hold on to what they all had wasn't hers alone.

Kid was now only a few yards from them, his blue eyes almost visible under the rim of his dusty hat, when Cody bent down and placed a swift kiss on Lou's cheek.

"Don't worry about the cooking, Lou, or the dirt for that matter," he said softly, all hints of teasing gone. Something in his voice made Lou feel the weight of urgency underneath his words, a tacit acknowledgement that time was running out. "You're beautiful as ever. Besides, Kid couldn't care less if you're covered in dirt or lace."

Lou was caught off guard by Cody's uncharacteristic affection and felt such a sudden rush of both tenderness and loss that she thought for one frightful second she might burst into tears. She didn't trust her voice, but took her eyes off Kid to look directly at Cody and saw the genuine warmth of a brother etched on his face, coupled with a sadness she understood all too well. The emotions that were stirring within her were reflected in his bright eyes, and she fought the urge to throw her arms around his neck and promise that she and Kid would never leave, that they would all figure out how to survive the war that seemed bent on destroying them. They both knew she could make no such promise.

Cody gave her shoulder one last squeeze and grabbed the rake she had discarded by the fence, waving at Kid and walking in the direction of the barn.

"Better get over here and claim your blushing bride, Kid," he called loudly, as Kid pulled Katy to a stop in front of Lou. "That is if you can find her under all that mud!"

He chuckled softly as he disappeared into the barn, but Lou didn't miss the slight bent to his shoulders as he walked. He seemed to wear the weight of all that had happened, all that still might happen, as much as any of them, and, despite the fact that he hadn't lost his humor, he'd aged too quickly in the last few months. Every time he returned from his duties in the army she saw a little less of the boy they'd known.

"Lou, you all right?"

Lou squinted in the sun up at Kid, who was still sitting on Katy's back, a look of concern on his tanned face. She pushed aside her thoughts and smiled at her husband. He looked exhausted, but the love she saw in his blue eyes worked to replace the sorrow she had felt only a moment before. Every time he rode into the station yard she felt as if she could let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

It was odd how time had seemed to reverse their positions. She remembered well the times Kid had rushed out of the bunkhouse when she'd returned from a run, freely admitting that he had been terrified for her safety during her absence. She now seemed to experience the same kind of anguish every time Kid was gone, though it wasn't fear of losing him to outlaws or accidents that kept her awake at night. It was the terrifying notion that he'd head into a war he could no longer resist and leave her behind. She sometimes wondered if death wouldn't be slightly easier to bear than desertion to a cause she wasn't sure she'd ever fully understand.

Lou shielded her eyes and smiled. "I'm fine, Kid. But I'd feel a lot better if you'd get off that horse and hug your wife. Katy's had you all to herself for too long."

Kid responded with a grin of his own and quickly dismounted. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and pulled her close, apparently not bothered by her disheveled appearance.

For a long moment he held her tightly and Lou lost herself in the embrace, pushing the worries aside and drawing comfort from the fact that Kid was there. He was real. He was part of her. She sighed against his chest and breathed in the familiar smell of his shirt. The faint scent of soap was still discernible beneath the layers of dirt he himself bore, and she realized that, though it had seemed too long since she'd touched him, he'd been gone only a few days.

Then, without warning, the odor she'd detected from the lingering soap suddenly made her stomach lurch. She pulled away from Kid and turned to face the corral, placing her hand firmly over her mouth in an attempt to stop what she feared was inevitable.

"Lou, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

She could hear the alarm in Kid's voice, but couldn't respond. The nausea was overwhelming and she dared not speak. Gripping the fence post she slowly lowered herself to a kneeling position and placed her head against the rough wood, silently willing Kid to keep his distance, more from embarrassment than anything else. It was one thing for Kid to come home to a wife caked in mud and sweat, it was quite another for her to vomit all over him.

She heard his step behind her, and put her hand in the air in an effort to keep him from coming any closer. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and, fortunately, felt the worst of it pass in a few seconds. Kid's concern was tangible, but she waited until she was sure she could speak before opening her eyes and looking in his direction.

"I'm okay, Kid," she answered weakly. "Just felt a little sick for a minute."

Kid approached slowly and knelt down beside her, placing his hand gently on her forehead.

"You don't feel overly warm," he nearly whispered, worry still etched in his face. "Have you been drinking enough water?"

Lou was careful to keep her face away from his shirt, wary of the smell that seemed to have triggered her nausea in the first place, but gratefully took the arm he offered and pulled herself to a standing position. She shook her head and laughed softly, trying to make light of the situation. She dared not admit that this wasn't the first time she'd felt sick since he'd been gone. Only the day before Rosemary had caught her throwing up her breakfast behind the barn.

But adding to Kid's worry was the last thing she wanted to do, and she had no intention of telling him what she was starting to suspect. She pushed her anxiety aside.

"Probably not," she admitted. "You know I sometimes get too busy to bother with much water."

Kid pressed his lips together, an all-too familiar sign that he was trying to rein in his frustration. "Lou, you don't need to work this hard. I am supposed to be taking…"

"Kid," Lou interrupted, letting go of his arm and looking straight into his pleading eyes, her tone gentler than even she expected. Perhaps the queasiness that had yet to completely disappear had momentarily knocked a bit of the fight out of her. "My working like this doesn't mean you're not taking care of me. It means you are."

Kid snorted, and Lou saw the muscles tighten in his jaw. "Really?" he asked, an edge of anger in his tone. "How so?"

"By letting me be who I am."

Kid sighed and glanced at Katy, still standing dutifully where he'd left her but pawing at the ground in a motion that indicated her restlessness.

"You're never going to be content to just stay home, are you?"

Lou looked around. She saw the bunkhouse porch, the weathered boards that bore the marks of boot whose owners had trudged back and forth between the road beyond and the family within. She could almost hear the echoes of countless words that had been uttered behind those walls, words that had been spoken almost without thought but now somehow seemed sacred. She saw the old barn where even at this moment a mismatched group of horses undoubtedly stood waiting for Katy to return, as if the animals themselves were reflections of the peculiar patterns of their riders. She saw the place beyond the corral where she and the boys had placed crosses for Ike and Noah, not because their bodies rested there, but because their memories did. She saw the dusty road that led to town and Teaspoon's office, and the window in Rachel's house that peeked into the room she and Kid were sharing while searching for a place of their own. And she saw the gold band that glinted off her husband's finger, speaking of promises he'd given freely and kept faithfully.

"Kid." She spoke his name firmly, as if calling him back from the edge of some doubt she knew he couldn't quite shake. "I _am_ home. I don't need anything more than what you've already given me."

He turned his eyes back to Lou and reached for her small hand, enclosing it in his larger one and pulling her toward him. She didn't miss the look of doubt that momentarily crossed his face and wondered how long he would remain convinced that he wasn't doing for her all his honor demanded.

"Besides," she continued, not yet willing to concede her point. "You're confusing home with kitchen."

He gave a small smile indicating a temporary surrender. "I guess this whole marriage thing takes some figuring out, huh?"

Lou grinned. "I suppose we could ask Teaspoon for some advice."

Kid laughed out loud and wrapped her in another embrace, the nagging issue that had plagued their relationship momentarily silenced.

"You know," he said, his voice partly muffled as he spoke more into the top of her head than anywhere else. "You're starting to sound a lot like Cody."

Lou reluctantly disentangled herself from Kid's arms, fully aware of the desire to be near him but fearful of another attack of nausea. She wasn't sure she had quite won that battle yet. She held his hand and led him to the place where Katy stood, picking up the reins and stroking the horse's neck.

"Well, we've been working together the past few days. Maybe some of his humor rubbed off on me."

"Maybe." Kid looked thoughtful. "I thought I saw him give you a kiss when I rode up. Did something happen?"

Lou was startled by Kid's question, and her eyes flew to his face, but there was no hint of accusation in his expression. Nor was there a trace of jealousy. The concern she saw was not due to a misreading of the situation on Kid's part, but understanding. Besides, Kid had only ever been jealous over one of the other riders. And it wasn't Cody. There had never been a question where anyone else was concerned.

"I think he's sad," Lou said quietly. "And scared of whatever else is coming."

She buried her face in Katy's neck, happy to see the animal that meant so much to her husband.

"He knows more about this war than we do," Kid murmured thoughtfully. "If he's scared, he may have a good reason."

"You think he's scared he'll have to fight?" she asked a little incredulously. She'd never seen Cody, or any of the others, shy away from a battle when justice demanded it.

Kid removed his hat and ran his fingers absently through his hair. "I think he's afraid this war is going to drag on and we'll all have to."

Lou stroked Katy's chestnut mane, forcing herself to avoid Kid's gaze. She understood too well the words he left unsaid. They both did. It wasn't the fighting that made Cody afraid. It was the reality that if the war continued, they wouldn't all be fighting on the same side. Cody would fight for the Union. Kid, for Virginia.

And her? Jimmy's face flashed across her mind. Loyalty to anyone would mean betrayal to someone else. The others would understand if she followed Kid to Virginia. She wasn't sure Jimmy would. His contempt for slavery spilled over into contempt for any person who fought for the soil that allowed it. And her support of Kid, no matter how much she disagreed with the Confederate cause, may very well condemn her as guilty.

"Hey, Kid!"

Lou was startled by Cody's voice. She hadn't noticed him come out of the barn. The blonde rider made his way over to where they were standing and leaned casually on the fence, reminding Lou of all the times she'd seen him in that same spot, poring over the pages of a book or living out some fantasy in his own imagination.

"Hey, Cody," Kid replied, placing his hat back over his rumpled hair and smiling at his friend. "Things pretty quiet while I was gone?"

"Kid, things are always quieter when you're gone."

"Very funny, Cody." Kid feigned his annoyance, but Lou could tell he was relieved to see Cody acting more like his old self.

Cody put his hand on Kid's shoulder. "You got any mail for me?"

Kid shook his head and glanced sideways at Lou. "No. You expecting something?"

Cody shrugged in an effort to appear casual. Whatever he was hoping Kid had brought him likely had something to do with the army. "I'm always expecting something. That's what makes life so enjoyable."

Lou knew Kid well enough to see the overwhelming desire to ask Cody for details. Every piece of information about the war had the potential to cause a stir. The absence of it, an earthquake .

With a great deal of visible effort Kid swallowed any questions he wanted to ask. "Sorry, Cody. Nothing for you. Just some things I need to take to town and... oh!" Kid slapped his hand on his forehead, sending a small cloud of dust from his hat through the air. "I forgot! Lou, I've got a letter for you."

"Me?" She looked up from the place where she stood by Katy and watched as Kid reached for the mailbag still slung over the horse's back. "Is it from Theresa?" Lou had written to her sister a few weeks earlier and had been anxiously awaiting a reply.

"Lou?" Cody questioned in mock puzzlement, standing up straight and peering around the yard. "Where? His head turned to the spot where she stood. "Oh, there you are, Lou! I thought I told you not to stand too close to Katy."

Lou reached eagerly for the envelope Kid handed her and rolled her eyes. "Wow, Cody, you're full of it today, huh?"

She saw her name sprawled neatly on the front of the envelope and turned it over. The handwriting didn't belong to her sister,though, and nothing on the envelope gave any indication as to who might have sent it.

"Actually, " Cody replied, obviously taking Lou's retort as a compliment. "The problem is, I'm not full of anything. I'm starving. I think I'll just go see what Rachel has on the stove for supper."

He began walking toward the bunkhouse but stopped mid-stride and turned to face Lou and Kid, a look of abject horror on his face. "Wait. Lou, you aren't cooking tonight, are you?"

Lou was still looking over the envelope in her hands, puzzled by the identity of its writer. "Just dessert, Cody," she answered dryly. "I made a pie."

Cody's lips twitched in a vain attempt to restrain a smile. "You know, Kid, I think you need to have a little talk with your wife. Her sarcasm is getting out of hand."

Kid cocked his head to one side and took Katy's reins. "You think she's going to start listening to me now?" he asked mischievously, glancing at his wife and giving her a slight wink.

Cody laughed again and turned back toward the bunkhouse. "You got a point, Kid," he called over his shoulder.

Lou watched him open the door and disappear from view before turning to face Kid. "Where'd you get this letter?" she asked, holding it up as if he hadn't seen it before. She hadn't been paying attention to his last remark, and she was too distracted by the small envelope she held in her hands to continue any bantering with Kid

"Why?" Kid wondered, evidently surprised by the seriousness of Lou's tone. "Isn't it from Theresa?"

Lou shook her head. "It's not her handwriting."

"Jeremiah?" Kid questioned innocently, stretching his neck so he could see the writing more clearly.

Lou's stomach dropped a bit at the mention of her brother. Lou had never told Kid about Jeremiah's last letter, how he had refused her invitation to their wedding and told her not to bother writing him again. She suspected it was his influence that had kept Theresa from attending as well, though she'd received word from Theresa claiming she was recovering from an illness and couldn't travel. Jeremiah had never forgiven Lou for leaving the orphanage all those years ago, and she feared that their relationship was beyond repair.

"It's not from Jeremiah either," Lou said, attempting to keep her voice free of both hurt and guilt. Too many things were on Kid's mind to begin unburdening her feelings about her younger siblings now.

"Well, there's only one way you're going to find out who sent it, Lou," Kid pointed out, not unkindly. "I'll let you read it by yourself if you want. I need to tend to Katy and wash up for supper." Kid paused. "Unless you want me to read it with you. Then I'd be happy to stay."

Lou appreciated Kid's thoughtfulness, his willingness to be there if she wanted him or give her space if she needed it. Perhaps they'd figured some things out over the course of their rocky courtship and first few months of marriage.

She shoved the mysterious letter in her pocket so she could give Kid her full attention before they parted, deciding that it might be better to read the letter in solitude. She looked intently at his tanned face, and in one quick movement took in everything about him: every familiar line that marked the space around his lips, the way his blue eyes looked almost green in the fading light, the hint of stubble on his strong jaw that told her he hadn't shaved in a couple days. The love she had for him still caught her off guard at times, coming in surprising waves of unexpected force.

"I'm glad you're home," she whispered, standing on tiptoes so she could wrap her arms around his neck and meet his gaze more squarely.

He wrapped his free arm around her waist, still holding onto Katy with the other hand, and bent his head to kiss her.

"Me too," he murmured against her ear when finally and reluctantly he pulled his mouth away from hers. "I think I miss you more every time I leave."

It was on the tip of Lou's tongue to point out that he didn't have to leave if he didn't want to, that he had a choice in the matter. But she knew it would be obvious she didn't have in mind the absences they both endured for the sake of his job with the Express. It was a longer, far more uncertain absence that hung over their every moment like a thief. It was his long loved Virginia and the war to which she'd pledged that threatened to separate them.

And it was something she couldn't ask of him.

"I do too, Kid," she answered simply, letting all the things she desperately wanted to say lie buried beneath the silence of things she had no right wanting.

"You want me to stay with you to read the letter?" he asked, tilting his head back to see her face.

She traced the length of his arm with her fingers until she touched the ring he wore on his hand. "No, I think I'd better read it alone. Go ahead and take care of Katy. I'll be along shortly."

Kid placed a light kiss on the top of her head and turned to the patient animal beside him. "Come on, Katy," he said affectionately, "I bet you're hungrier than Cody."

Katy raised her head, as if agreeing heartily with Kid's statement, and followed him away from the place where Lou stood, the brilliance of the orange sky creating a sort of halo as they walked.

Lou continued to stare in the direction they'd gone long after they entered the barn. Somehow knowing they were not gone but just out of sight didn't ease the ache that settled within her. "You're being ridiculous,Lou," she muttered to herself. "There's no sense in missing someone who's literally right there in the barn."

Lou dug around in her pocket and pulled out the envelope she'd placed there only minutes before. Carefully, she checked the latch on the gate to the corral and ambled to the side of the bunkhouse porch. She'd considered finding a spot near Noah's and Ike's crosses - it was her favorite place in the yard, offering a kind of comfort she wouldn't have thought possible when the grief from their respective deaths had been new and raw - but the heat hadn't eased with the fading light and her legs felt heavy. The bunkhouse was closer and, despite its relative lack of privacy, at least offered a shorter walk.

Lou settled herself on the corner of the porch, tucking her knees under her chin, and gazed tentatively at the letter in her hand. She was inexplicably afraid to open the envelope and examine its contents. Something about seeing her name written by an unknown hand appeared ominous.

Hesitantly, she ran her fingers under the sealed edge and pulled out a small piece of paper. With bated breath she began to read.

_Louise,_

_I would first like to offer my sincere congratulations on your recent marriage. I trust that you and your husband will enjoy your new life together and that you will indeed be fruitful in all your endeavors. _

_Your brother and sister have granted me permission to correspond with you in response to your request that they be released into your care. While I acknowledge that Jeremiah and Theresa are indeed your blood relations, I must insist that you carefully consider the fact that it is the faithful sisters of St. Joseph's who have raised your siblings during the many years of your prolonged absence, and, may I say, have done so with the self-denial and attentive care required of such a task. I dare not presume to know the reasons for your abandonment, but I believe it goes without saying that true guardianship belongs to those who have both planted and watered the seed. _

_It is precisely on these grounds that your brother has refused your proposal, and in circumstances such as these, I am inclined to consent to his wishes._

_As for Theresa, it is not only the issue of earned guardianship that gives me pause, but other factors I would beg you to consider._

_First, Theresa has begun to thrive in her present situation, aiding our teachers in their work with the younger children, and growing in her knowledge of all the values we espouse here at St. Joseph's. She has expressed a desire to one day pursue a career in teaching, and I feel that it would only benefit her to continue under the care and tutelage of our Catholic sisters until that time. We have, in fact, secured the financial assistance of a very generous donor willing to pay for her tuition to one of the most prestigious women's colleges in the country under the condition that she remains with us until she is of age. I find it improbable that you would have the same means available for her education and training, and I am sure you would not wish to discourage her from such a respectable course of action._

_Secondly, though the subject may be uncomfortable, I would be remiss if I didn't object to your request of guardianship for your sister on the grounds of your current living situation. It has come to my attention that you have been residing for some time with a group of men in a manner hardly suitable as an example for a young girl such as your sister. The fact that you are now married to one of them hardly rectifies past folly. The virtue of any young woman is a matter of great consequence, and I must urge you to more carefully consider that of your sister than perhaps you have your own. _

_If I have been too forthright in my opinions, I ask your complete forgiveness. Please understand, however, that my objections stem only from my concern for Jeremiah and Theresa and nothing more. As I presume that you have the same concern, I am confident that you will agree that my protestations are both legitimate and justified. _

_Should further discussion on this matter be required, please address all correspondence to me._

_In Union of Prayer,_

_Sister Michael_

_St. Joseph's Home for Orphaned Children _

Lou sat in stunned silence, unable to formulate one coherent thought. The tempest of emotions that flooded her so suddenly far exceeded the day's lingering warmth, and the effect was physical. She leapt suddenly from the porch in an attempt to make it behind the small building and away from any windows where she might be noticed. Her efforts proved futile, however, as she only managed to stagger a few yards from the corner of the porch where she had been reading when the nausea overtook her.

She spent several minutes vomiting up the contents of her stomach before sitting back on the dusty ground, weak and sweaty, unaware of anything but the violent shaking of her hands. She put her head between her knees, oddly aware that while her body experienced a welcome emptiness, her mind was buffeted by a battering tide.

Until recently it had been years since she'd been sick like this. She licked her lips. The taste in her mouth seemed to carry her back. A sweltering room. Fading wallpaper that peeled at the edges as if it too were trying to escape. A grime-covered window. Threadbare rug.

That taste was a memory. It had a name. She just couldn't think what it was.

"Lou?"

Her head snapped up and she saw the outline of a shadow against the setting sun, briefly melding the past and present in one terrifying second of uncertainty.

"Lou, are you okay?"

She wouldn't have known who it was had he not spoken a second time. But she recognized his voice, and its effectiveness at dispelling whatever nightmare had threatened to take over was immediate.

She couldn't distinguish the expression on Jimmy's face, but she heard the alarm under his words and wondered briefly where he'd come from. She hadn't heard or seen him approach. She glanced at the puddle by her feet. It must have been when she was throwing up. The humiliation that washed over her rivaled the confused terror she'd felt only a second before.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling in front of her and looking intently at her face.

Lou lowered her eyes. "I'm okay. Just...well, I guess you saw."

Jimmy gave a sympathetic nod and placed his large hand on her shoulder.

"I'll get you some water."

Lou's eyes flew beyond Jimmy at the sound of Rosemary's voice. The dark-haired woman was standing only a few short steps away. She must have been with him when they came upon Lou, and the fact that she had also been a witness to Lou's predicament only added to her mortification. This was the second time Rosemary had seen her sick, and Lou wasn't comfortable with another display of her own vulnerability. Though Rosemary had always been kind to her, Lou continually got the feeling she was being studied. And, for whatever reason, she always felt like she came up short.

"Be right back." Rosemary glanced briefly at Lou, an unreadable expression on her face, and walked briskly to the door of the bunkhouse, closing it softly behind her.

"Come on, let's get you in the bunkhouse where it's cool." Jimmy wrapped his hand in hers and pulled her to a standing position.

"No," she objected weakly, not yet confident that the sickness was completely behind her. "Just the porch."

"Don't you want to lie down?"

Lou thought of the number of people inside the crowded space.

"I'd rather have the fresh air."

He wrapped his arm around the small of her back in an effort to steady her when something on the ground caught his eye. Lou noticed it at the same moment but wasn't quick enough to halt his movement or keep him from picking up the letter she must have dropped during her sickness. She'd momentarily forgotten it.

"What's this?" He asked innocently, holding the paper up and examining the tidy handwriting for a clue to its contents. He must have seen something to let him know it belonged to her because he immediately held it out for her with a look of embarrassment.

"Sorry, this must be yours," he said awkwardly, as she snatched the crumpled piece of paper as quickly as her trembling hand would let her. She didn't miss the way he purposely avoided her eyes, and she wondered exactly which part of the letter he had seen.

He walked slowly, apparently sensing her protracted weakness, and led her like a child to the bench just outside the bunkhouse door where she gratefully sat on the rough seat and leaned her head back on the wall. He stood opposite, never taking his eyes off her face, in an apparent attempt to assess whether or not the exertion required to move from the ground to the porch would prove too much. It seemed to Lou as if he stood close enough to see her clearly, but far enough should she get sick again. She couldn't say that she blamed him.

"Lou, you look pale. You want me to get the doctor?"

Lou looked at the letter clutched in her grasp. "No."

"I think you…" Jimmy was interrupted by the sound of the bunkhouse door as Rosemary reappeared carrying a cup of water.

"Here you are, Louise." She held it out with a small smile.

"Thank you." Lou took the cup and sipped slowly, thankful for the cool water that helped to wash away some of the taste on her tongue.

Jimmy waited patiently until Lou was finished drinking before posing his question again.

"You want me to go for the doctor, Lou?"

Lou wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "I'm fine, really."

Jimmy pursed his lips. "You didn't look fine."

"I think I just got overheated." She paused, a warmth on her cheeks she felt sure was visible. "I'm sorry you saw that."

Jimmy slid his hands in his pockets and let out a long sigh. "Me too."

She saw the corner of his lips twitch slightly and realized he was teasing. As mortified as she was, there was a feeling of relief that perhaps he wouldn't push the issue, and that just maybe he wouldn't ask her about the letter he'd seen.

"Lou, you coming to wash up?" Kid's voice carried from across the station yard.

Lou craned her neck around Jimmy to see him standing outside the barn door, the tone of his question all she needed to know that he was curious as to what was happening on the porch. Jimmy spent much of his time with Rosemary when she came on one of her extended visits, but casual conversation with the two of them was a rarity. It was no secret that Rosemary was continuing to carry on the work of her late husband and the others knew Jimmy was helping her when he could. What they didn't know was how much of this work was sanctioned by the army and how much could be attributed to one individual's conviction and the ongoing legacy of Isaiah Burke. Jimmy had not been too forthcoming about their activities, and Lou suspected it had more to do with Rosemary's distrust of Jimmy's friends than his own penchant for discretion.

"I'll be there in a minute," she called to her husband, hoping her voice sounded steadier than she still felt. If he suspected that something was wrong he would assuredly come to her and perhaps reach the same conclusion about her physical state that Jimmy had. There'd be no stopping any doctor visits then.

He cocked his head to one side. "You sure you're okay?"

She forced a slight laugh. "I'm fine, Kid, really. Just finishing up this water." She held the cup up where he could see it.

He smiled, apparently satisfied with her answer. "Did you read the letter? Who's it from?"

Lou kept her eyes fixed decidedly away from both Jimmy and Kid, focusing instead on a point about three feet to the left of Kid's shoulder. "Just Theresa," she shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary." She hoped Kid was tired enough to miss the false cheerfulness in her tone. He'd always been able to tell when she was lying.

Kid nodded and glanced at Jimmy and Rosemary. "Hey, Jimmy," he called in his direction, a familiar friendliness in his tone. He'd given up trying to extract information about Jimmy's whereabouts and the two had managed to regain some of the mutual respect they shared, at least for the time being. "Good evening, Rosemary," he offered, a note of formality suddenly audible.

"How's it going, Kid?" Jimmy called. "Did you have a good ride?"

Lou noticed that Rosemary nodded curtly but said nothing.

"Can't complain. I'm back in one piece." He brushed some of the dust off his trousers. "Just in need of a bath."

"By the smells coming from the bunkhouse I'd say Rachel has dinner just about ready." Jimmy nodded toward the door.

"Better get washed up then," Kid answered. He turned his eyes to Lou. She knew he was waiting for her to join him. "You'll come in when you're finished?"

She smiled. "Of course."

Kid turned to head into Rachel's house and had barely closed the front door when Jimmy rounded on Lou.

"So, how long have you been in the habit of lying to your husband?"

Lou felt as if she had been slapped. There was no teasing in his tone now. The tender concern Jimmy had shown only moments before had been replaced by something that sounded like anger.

Lou's eyes darted to Rosemary and the look of surprise that crossed her face mirrored her own.

Rosemary cleared her throat and looked at her feet. "I think I'll go see if Rachel needs any help with supper." It was clear that Rosemary sensed an altercation, and whatever her true feelings about Lou, she at least offered the dignity of space to whatever was going on between her and Jimmy.

Rosemary was out of sight before Jimmy had a chance to respond to her obvious ploy for escape, and his eyes held Lou in a steely gaze, waiting for a reply. Something in his expression looked familiar, and Lou remembered a similar moment when she'd insisted on staying to help him defend a town against a group of bandits bent on revenge. Jimmy had tried to get her to leave so she wouldn't risk her future with Kid, but she'd held her ground in their battle of wills. Somehow the threat of vengeful outlaws in that memory seemed less risky than the one before her now.

She willed herself to hold Jimmy's stare. Looking away was like being defeated. "There's a difference between lying for self protection and lying for the protection of someone you love."

"You think that's how Kid would see it?"

"I think that's how a lot of people would see it," she answered evenly. "There are certain things I would never tell Kid for the protection of more people than just him."

It was Jimmy who looked away, Lou's meaning thick between them. It was the first time she'd referred to the time he kissed her on their trip with Elias since her futile attempt at discussing it the morning after.

Jimmy let out a breath, and with it, any hint of accusation. If she was guilty, so was he. "So," he began gently, sweeping both her implication and the memory aside. "What is it you're trying to protect Kid from then? Knowing you're sick?" He paused, apparently weighing his words carefully. "Or that letter you're holding?"

Lou took a long sip of water and brushed the hair from her eyes, partially relieved that the subject to which she'd alluded had been dismissed. She hadn't meant to bring it up, and fear of destroying their friendship far outweighed whatever desire she still carried to figure out that night at all.

She sighed. "Kid has a lot on his mind, Jimmy. There's no sense worrying him about every little thing."

Jimmy closed the gap between them and sat beside her, his presence making Lou feel a mixture of both comfort and danger. He may not be willing to discuss their past, but he'd always been able to get her to discuss her present. She wondered for the millionth time how someone could be so distant and close all at once.

"I don't think Kid would see what I just saw as a little thing," he replied. "Something has to be wrong."

"I've been out here all afternoon without water and barely any lunch. I promise, Jimmy, I'm fine. I got overheated and…" She felt the edges of the paper between her fingers and let the words die on her tongue. It sounded ludicrous to say she'd been physically ill because of words written on a page.

She didn't need to. He pointed at the letter. "You lied to him about that too."

So he had seen enough to know she'd been dishonest about who sent it. There was no way out.

"If I'd told him the truth he'd have wanted to know what it said," she replied quietly.

He put his head close to hers, forcing her to raise her eyes to his. "Is that letter just a "little thing" too? If it hurt you, don't you think he'd want to know?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I overreacted."

Jimmy removed his hat and ran his fingers through his long hair. It appeared to her as if he was unsure what to say, like he had a thousand arguments but was forced to settle on one. He stood up and faced her. "Listen, Lou," he began after a prolonged moment of silence. "It's none of my business what that letter says and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to see it."

She watched him put his hat back on his head and rub his temples. "But what I saw didn't seem like a little thing. It looked like someone was calling into question your...your…" He didn't know how to finish his sentence, so he let it go unsaid.

The air around them suddenly seemed thin, like a transparent curtain that did little to keep the heat out. She felt her cheeks redden once again, and she swallowed hard, the taste of bile recurring suddenly on her tongue.

She wasn't sure what made her do it, but she saw herself lift a quaking hand and hold the letter out where he could reach it.

He moved his head from side to side, refusing her offer. "I don't need to read it."

Lou waved it slightly. "You've already seen it, Jimmy. You might as well know it all."

He reached out tentatively and grasped the paper, still not looking at it but searching her face for confirmation that this was what she really wanted.

She lowered her head while he read and studied the scuff marks on the floor beneath her feet, the way the jagged lines intersected to resemble a spider's web, its far reaching threads hidden beneath the lengthening shadows of a rapidly darkening sky.

After a minute that felt like an eternity, she heard Jimmy fold up the letter and dared to peek at his face. She was startled to see the set of his jaw, like he himself was fighting for the control she hadn't been able to maintain.

He held out the letter as if the feel of it burned, and he spoke softly but firmly. "Do you believe this?"

She took the piece of paper, various words catching her eye. _Abandonment. Virtue. _"Do you?"

"That wasn't my question."

Her mind searched frantically for the right words. He'd recognize anything less than honesty.

"It doesn't matter what I think," she supplied lamely.

"Then who? The woman who wrote this? You think her opinion matters?"

Lou thought. She was wary of losing control of the conversation. She'd let him see the letter. She wasn't about to show him more than that. "Theresa and Jeremiah. It matters what they think."

"Jeremiah is an angry kid. He doesn't understand what you've done for him. And Theresa? This," he pointed at the letter, "tells you nothing about what she thinks...or wants. This is the opinion of some woman who knows nothing about you."

"She seems to know a lot about me," Lou argued.

"Knowing _about _someone and actually knowing them are not the same, Lou."

"What if she sees me more clearly than anyone else?"

Jimmy scoffed, his tone incredulous. "You think she knows you more than I..more than we do? More than Kid?"

Lou put the letter in her pocket and placed the cup she'd been holding on the bench beside her. "It doesn't matter, Jimmy. As far as Jeremiah and Theresa go, her opinion carries more weight than anyone else's. All they know is that I left them. I abandoned them at that orphanage and didn't come back."

Jimmy moved closer to her, forcing her to listen. "You were a kid in no position to take care of them. You did what was best."

"And what about now?" She tried to keep her tone neutral. "She's right. What do I have to offer either of them? Jeremiah hates me and Theresa...what if...maybe I…" She didn't know how to finish.

"You think this woman is right? That living here with us makes you…" Jimmy hesitated, obviously reticent to say explicitly what Sister Michael had implied. "That it was wrong?"

Lou remembered one of the biggest fights she and Kid had ever had. When he'd moved her things out of the bunkhouse with the boys and into Rachel's. She'd been too angry with him at the time to carefully consider why he felt the way he did.

She peered at the upstairs window in Rachel's house. "I guess most people think so."

"Who cares?" Jimmy demanded. "The people who know you, and this woman is not one of them, understand why you did what you did."

She wondered if he remembered that long ago fight with Kid. She dismissed the memory and fixed her gaze on Jimmy's face. He looked almost fierce. "But it doesn't matter," she countered, her sister's innocent face coming to mind. "Even if everybody is wrong, Theresa could bear the consequences."

She'd never forgotten the time she'd been walking with Charlotte down the sidewalk in St. Joe, how the woman they passed had grabbed her daughter's hand and pulled her quickly in the opposite direction. _Keep your distance from girls like that, _she'd overheard the woman whisper. _Their reputations spread to whatever they touch. _Or the words one of the girls had uttered when she'd caught Charlotte tending to her after Wicks's attack. _It's your own fault, Louise. You don't live in a whorehouse without becoming a whore, even if the only thing he pays you for is the damn laundry. _

"Consequences of what?" Jimmy continued, mercifully unaware of the thoughts running rampant through her head. "People's misunderstanding of what they don't know?"

"Not their misunderstanding, Jimmy. Their actions. Their treatment of a girl who is forced to pay for the choices of her older sister."

"What choices? The only choice you ever had was whether or not you were going to do what it took to take care of your brother and sister. And you chose to sacrifice everything to make that happen."

"Sacrifice? What did I sacrifice?"

"You hid who you were to get a job with the Pony Express, to live a life you wouldn't have chosen if it hadn't been for them."

Lou felt the wind knocked out of her. She wanted to believe he was right, that he saw the situation better than she did. But he didn't know what he didn't know. And she couldn't make him see the truth without revealing everything.

"That's what you think?" she asked.

"Yes, that's exactly what I think."

She folded her arms across her chest, part of her wanting him to see what was true and part of her terrified he would.

"Jimmy, I…" She was interrupted by the sound of the bunkhouse door, and Rosemary appeared, her apprehension at interrupting obvious.

"Supper is ready." She said it more to Jimmy than Lou, and Lou was relieved to escape the other woman's scrutiny.

Jimmy took his eyes off Lou and offered Rosemary his attention. "Thanks. Will you tell Rachel I'm coming?"

Lou didn't miss the way Rosemary's lips formed a thin straight line, the way she glanced sidelong at her but disappeared with only a slight nod in Jimmy's direction.

Lou placed her hands on the bench and forced herself to a standing position. Rosemary's interruption and the call for dinner had put an end to their conversation. She couldn't say she was unhappy about it.

He must have felt the same because he didn't speak another word as he stepped closer to offer his hand, obviously doubting her ability to balance herself. She put her hand up. "I'm okay. I feel better."

He looked skeptical. "Really?"

She gave a slight grin. "Well, I think you're safe at least."

He returned a paltry smile. "Do you want me to help you inside?"

Lou looked at the state of her trousers and the dirt beneath her fingernails. "Do you think there's any way Rachel would allow me at the table looking like this?" She held up her hands where Jimmy could see them.

She walked by him slowly and made her way carefully down the steps. "I'll be in for supper after I wash up," she said over her shoulder, heading toward Rachel's house.

"Lou?" She heard the pleading in his question and turned to face Jimmy where he remained on the porch. "Will you promise me two things?"

She wanted to refuse, to tell him how foolish it was to make promises without knowing what they were, but something about the way he was looking at her stopped the words in her throat. She nodded.

"Will you show Kid that letter? He'd want to know. And, if you get sick again, will you see a doctor?"

Lou didn't think she could agree to either of his requests, one, because the desire to protect Kid outweighed the desire to unburden on him any hurt she may be feeling, and, the other, because she was pretty sure a doctor couldn't tell her anything she didn't already know. But she couldn't refuse Jimmy, so she vowed to do both.

Turning in the direction of Rachel's house and leaving him behind her in the fading light, she proceeded to the room where Kid waited. Would Kid be able to tell that she'd been sick the way she was sure Jimmy could tell that she had lied?

She moved her tongue across her lips where the faintest taste of sickness still lingered. And that's when it hit her. The name of that taste. It was _shame_.

_Author's Note: I am sorry it has taken me so long to post another chapter. It was simply due to a lack of time and not desire. Also, to Kid and Lou fans, I apologize. I really tried to write a chapter that belonged only to them, but I couldn't resist the temptation to put Jimmy in there!_

_M. - Thanks for the many re-readings and suggestions!_


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